


This Is Not The Date I Planned

by Joe_Reaves



Series: This Is Not The date I Planned [1]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Adventure, BAMF Lester, Humor, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joe_Reaves/pseuds/Joe_Reaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Becker planned a romantic night out starting with ballet, progressing to fine dining, and finishing up with sex. It didn't quite work out that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Not The Date I Planned

The first sign that their evening wasn't going to end the way Captain Becker was hoping it would was when his phone went off during dinner, followed a second later by Lester's. The second sign, which came before either Lyle or Jenny had managed to say more than 'Sir...', was the three women in elegant gowns, running screaming past the window, followed by several of what he rapidly described to Lyle as the bastard offspring of a guard dog and an overgrown tabby cat.

He told Lyle to track his phone and then shoved it in the pocket of his suit trousers and took off at a run. Behind him he was vaguely aware of Lester snapping orders at the maitre d' before an unmistakable presence over his left shoulder told him his lover was following him. He was glad he wasn't going to be tackling the little buggers alone and unarmed and in evening dress, but he still rather wished Lester had stayed safely inside the restaurant. Not that there had been any chance of that with people in danger and no one else around to follow the creatures and keep an eye on them until Lyle could turn up with the cavalry. Lester really was far too heroic for someone who described himself as a prime ministerial hatchet man.

He emerged into the piazza and skidded to a halt on the wet cobbles. Defying physics and showing remarkable amounts of athletic ability for anyone wearing a gown, the three women had scaled the pedestal of the huge Christmas tree and were clinging to the trunk as the group of creatures hurled themselves at it in impotent fury. Fortunately for the women, they didn't appear to be able to climb and had to settle for snarling at their victims from a safe distance.

Unfortunately for Becker and Lester, that meant that their appearance gave the animals two far more interesting and accessible targets. Lester slipped and slid, his shoes not suited to running on the wet surface, grabbing onto Becker's shoulder to steady himself. The creatures turned as one and took a couple of steps towards the men.

“Ah, Hilary, do you have a plan or are we just making this up as we go along?” Lester asked softly, trying not to draw any more attention than they already had.

“We could run and hope they follow us back inside, away from the women....”

“That sounds less like a plan and more like a suicide attempt,” Lester snapped.

“Well, if you have any better ideas, James, I'm open to suggestions,” Becker told him, starting to lose his temper a little. “It's not like my plans for the evening were ballet, dinner, and then playing bait for a pack of whatever the hell those bastards are. If I'd known we were going to be the stars of a creature feature, I'd have worn something more comfortable and packed a gun.”

They backed up slowly and the creatures followed them. Then the bravest of the animals broke into a run and the rest of the pack fell in behind him. Becker turned to run, lost his balance on the wet ground, and felt himself falling. That was the last thing he remembered.

* * *

Lester heard him cry out and spun around, barely keeping his own footing on the treacherous ground. Becker hit the ground with a sickening thump and didn't move, and the pack of creatures were still charging towards them.

The three women clinging to the Christmas tree were screaming and Lester felt like joining them. Unless he did something, Becker was going to end up an immaculately dressed chew toy, but all he had in his pockets was his mobile phone, his car keys, and his wallet, and he didn't think any of those were going to be much good against the animals.

His eyes darted around, desperately trying to come up with a plan that would save them both. There! Stacked in front of one of the restaurants were a couple of dozen metal chairs. He dived towards them and grabbed the top one, turning back and throwing it at the snarling creatures.

They stopped and skittered away from it, looking at one another, trying to decide what to do about this new threat and if they had the nerve to approach. Finally the largest of them hurled itself at him. Swinging another of the chairs with all his might he felt it connect with the beast with a satisfying thump. The creature rolled across the cobbles with a frightened yelp before scrambling back to its feet and baring its teeth at him again.

He waved the chair threateningly and screamed at the animals. “Go on, get out of here! Go!” He took a couple of steps towards them, still brandishing the chair. Again the creatures looked at one another, but this time when he shouted, they turned and ran back into the covered arcades.

Lester heaved a shaky sigh of relief. Lyle and his men were still nowhere to be seen though, and he couldn't let the creatures disappear into the streets and alleyways of London or they might never find them again, and the last thing he needed was a pack of prehistoric dog things establishing a successful breeding colony in one of London's parks. He had to keep them in sight somehow.

He had other things to worry about right now though. Dropping the chair, he ran back to Becker's side and dropped to his knees next to him, hesitantly reaching out to take his lover's pulse. Strong and steady, thank God. He ran his hand around the back of Becker's head, looking for an injury, but other than what was probably going to be a rather painful lump he couldn't find anything. At least there was no blood.

He couldn't leave Becker lying there in case the creatures came back and he couldn't stay with him in case they didn't. He pulled the unconscious man into a sitting position and then used his shoulder to support him. With a groan, he pulled himself to his feet, lifting Becker's dead weight until he had him in a fireman's carry. God, if things like this were going to keep happening, either he was going to have to spend more time in the gym or Becker was going to have to lose weight. It felt like the injured man must have been made partly out of cement blocks.

He staggered across the slippery ground until he reached the Christmas tree. With the help of the three incredibly grateful women, all of whom were telling him how heroic and brave he was, something which he was sure he would enjoy later but right now did not have time for, he manhandled Becker up onto the pedestal. One of the women knelt down and pulled him into a sitting position against the trunk of the tree, wrapping her arms around him to hold him there.

“He's going to want to do something when he comes around, because he's a stubborn idiot,” Lester told them. “Don't let him. Stay where you are until I come back or until you're rescued by black-clad soldiers. They're on their way now. Tell them which way I've gone and that I'm going to try and locate those animals before we lose them forever.”

He pulled his bow tie off and shoved it in his pocket, opening the top two buttons of his shirt, and then started to head back into the warren of streets and arcades that made up Covent Garden.

“Wait!” one of the women called out. “What's your name?”

“Lester.” He chuckled and made an elegant bow. “James Lester.”

* * *

Someone was holding his head and shining an uncomfortably bright light in his face. Groggily, he flapped his hand at his tormentor. 

“Go 'way,” he muttered.

“Come on, sleeping beauty,” an annoyingly cheerful voice encouraged. “Open your eyes because I'm not Prince Charming and you're not getting a kiss.”

He groaned and rubbed his face, pushing the hands holding him away. “Fuck off, Ditzy.” He opened his eyes and pushed himself further upright, groaning at the feeling of nausea that flooded him. 

He was leaning against the pedestal of the Christmas tree, the damp from the cobbles seeping through his thin trousers and chilling him to the bone. Just off to one side were three elegantly dressed women, surrounding and, by the looks of it, flirting with Stringer and a couple of police constables. Jenny was watching the police suspiciously, no doubt coming up with her cover story already.

He groaned again. What was it she was covering up this time? Oh hell. “Where's James?”

Ditzy was still poking and prodding him and he'd really like to get up, push the medic away, and go and find his lover, but he wasn't entirely sure his legs would hold him.

“Ditzy! Where's James?”

“Don't worry, he's fine. Lyle is just retrieving him now. After heroically fighting off an entire pack of demons.” He gestured at the women. “Their words not mine. And then carrying your unconscious body across the courtyard to safety, he followed the Cynognathuses, your cat-dog hybrid things, back into the covered part of the building. Don't worry, he's fine. Although he may need protection from his devoted admirers over there.” Ditzy grinned. “Apparently, they found him to be 'so dishy' and 'just like Daniel Craig'. I don't see it myself but they're convinced he's some kind of super spy. Whereas you've been cast as the damsel in distress apparently.”

Becker dropped his head into his hands. “I am never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

“Not a bloody chance,” Lyle announced cheerfully as he crossed the courtyard, Lester a couple of steps behind him. “Which one of you is the pencil pusher and which one's the highly trained soldier again? Because right now I'm not sure it's clear.”


End file.
